


Christmas Cookies

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Series: Christmas Drabble Day 2018 [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, christmas surprise, тэг заменён на Don't copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-24 16:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: curiositywillbethedeathofme  asked:You asked for ideas, and mine probably suck but... To me, holidays are, at their best, about coming together and food. A fluff piece where someone has a nasty cold and one of the Brooklyn boys makes absurdly good matzoh ball soup from scratch. Maybe he'd been the shabbos goy for a Jewish neighbor when he was young and learned to cook in their kitchen? A smuff idea where reader is baking, smells delicious, and a hero-of-choice cannot keep their hands off the cookies or the reader.





	Christmas Cookies

 

 

* * *

“What is that heavenly aroma?”

You looked up to find Steve leaning through the kitchen doorway. His appearance made you smirk, for he looked like a cartoon character being led by his nose, floating on the scent of gingerbread. “That would be the cookies I'm baking.”

“No. No, I'm familiar with gingerbread. That's not it.” He sniffed as he made his way around the room to your side. “Smells like… vanilla.”

Busy cutting out cookies, you didn't pay much attention until big hands spanned your waist and warm lips landed on the back of your neck.  
Then he had all your attention.

“Found it. You smell edible.”

“It's my body wash,” you sighed and tilted your head. “But you'd know that as you shared the shower with me this morning.”

“I can't help it. You're so sexy standing here in your apron, making cookies. It's domestic and gives me feels.”

You snorted a laugh. “Who taught you about ‘feels,’ Peter or Shuri?”

“Hey, I'm cool. I'm in the know. I've seen the me me's.”

“I think you mean memes, Steve. So what are these _feels_ you're having?”

He ran his hands over your waist and hips. “You know. Domestic ones. Like coming home to my girl barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”

“It's a good thing I know you mean that to be sweet, or you and I would be discussing your antiquated leanings, Rogers.”

He pouted against you, lip dragging on your skin. “You don't want to have my brat?”

“He or she won't be a brat, Steve.”

“How can you be so sure? I was a total shit growing up.”

The oven timer rang. You poked him in the side. “Want to get those? And he or she will be fine. Even if they are a shit disturbed like you, we can always dump them on Uncle Bucky when we need a break. He was good at pulling your butt out of trouble.”

“Yeah. I suppose.” He placed the hot tray down on the counter as you tugged off your apron, then handed him the new pan to put back in the oven. “Be a dear and watch those. I'm going to run this plate of cooled off cookies down to Mrs. Reynolds at the end of the hall. You know how she loves cookies.”

“Sure thing, dollface,” he smiled. “Guess this isn't something we need to worry about for a while.”

“Yeah,” you smirked as you opened the door. “You've got at least seven months to figure it out.” The door shut behind you, and you were halfway down the hall before pounding feet followed and you were grabbed around the waist and lifted off the ground.

“We're having a brat?” he whispered against your ear, emotion making his voice shake.

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

He gave a whoop and kissed you so hard; you dropped the tray of cookies.

-The End-

 


End file.
